


Hush Now

by Angst_BuriTTo



Series: The Dark Times [1]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Introspection, Not A Fix-It, Post-Episode: s04e08-09 Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead, Post-Episode: s07e05 The Angels Take Manhattan, The Doctor (Doctor Who) Whump, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29946858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angst_BuriTTo/pseuds/Angst_BuriTTo
Summary: “Everybody knows that everybody dies, and nobody knows it like the Doctor...” - River Song S4E9 ‘Forest of the Dead’
Relationships: Amy Pond & River Song, Eleventh Doctor & Amy Pond, Eleventh Doctor & Amy Pond & Rory Williams, Eleventh Doctor & Rory Williams, Eleventh Doctor/River Song, River Song & Rory Williams, The Doctor & River Song, The Doctor/River Song
Series: The Dark Times [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202462
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Hush Now

**Author's Note:**

> *throws angst at ya’ll*

  
  
  
  


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The Doctor is very, very old, Ancient, in fact; The Doctor has seen Galaxy’s and planet and stars been born, and also seen them die in fiery infernos, or die with almost silent whimpers, and also, occasionally, without a single sound. The Doctor has seen the beginning, and the End of the universe, has seen the universe grow and change and multiply. He has seen life be created, and life been destroyed. He has seen entire civilization rise, grow, and fall, has seen species come into being, has seen them grow, and has seen them be eradicated — sometimes even by his own hand, on all three counts. The Doctor has seen it all, has seen som much birth, life, and death.

The Doctor is _tired_.

People say that the Doctor is a hero, a saviour, a rescuer. They say he is very kind, very caring, and very, very empathetic.

They say nothing about him being a good man.

What is a good man? What makes a man good?

The Doctor isn’t certain that whatever makes a a man, a good man, is something that the Doctor has.

The Doctor is from an ancient, dead race of beings that once lorded over the universe with their superiority and their self-importance. The Time Lords had hated the Doctor, for ‘lowering himself’ to protecting other races they deemed ‘primitive’ and ‘unimportant in the grand scale of the universe’. 

When the Doctor looked at the earth, he saw many things — but ‘primitive’ and ‘unimportant’ was not anywhere to be sighted. He saw limitless potential, he saw genius, he saw hope and fear and sadness; he saw anger and hate and kindness and love. He saw potential to be the longest lived race in the galaxy, the ones that reached the farthest, advanced the most, covered in legends, stories and endless knowledge. He saw potential for great deeds, and horrible massacres. He saw potential for peace, for war, for discovery. The human race with its endless, limitless potential fascinated him beyond measure.

The Doctor is very very old, and very very kind, and he has saved so many people, civilizations and planets and galaxy’s. But he had lost so many along the way, everyone eventually leaves, he knew this when he first brought Ian and Barbera along with him (though, now, centuries later, he will admit he kidnapped them — his first human companions). He knew that humans aged when he didn’t, he knew that remaining distant would be best; but oh, how could he? How could he guard his hearts from the human companions he had taken on over his lifetimes? How could he, when they incessantly burrowed themselves deep inside both hearts and hung on like limpets? His human companions were all he had, travelling around. He loved them all, all their separate quirks and dislikes; the way they saw the universe with such wonder and majesty, when the magic of it had gotten old for him so long ago, and without a companion, all he saw was the darkness, the despair, in the endless universe.

He had thought that the Ponds were different — somehow, he had deluded himself into believing they would be different; they were family after all, shouldn’t the universe grant him this _one_ boon? Couldn’t he have a _family_ after all these years? Couldn’t he keep his wife, even?

But no.

No, the Universe had decreed that the Doctor is not allowed to have a happy ending, is not allowed to _keep_ what he loves, what he treasures.

In the end, it’s just him, and his blue box, traversing the universe, alone and suffering.

A sad man in a blue box.

After he lost the Ponds, he had had River to share his grief with, at first. River, who had held him when he cried, and had leaned on him when it was her turn to shed tears for her lost parents who she hadn’t really had time to know, not as a friend, but as a _daughter_. River, who had made sure they both got out of bed and out of the TARDIS when all they wanted to do was lay between the sheets and hide from the world, and soak in their tears and their sorrow. River, who had made sure they both ate and drank and were healthy. River, who had made him talk and River who would talk to him when they both needed it — wanting it, that was another matter entirely.

But then... River asked to see Darillium.

And the Doctor knew...It was time. Time for her to go to the Library, and her life to come full circle.

They saw them, the singing towers...he cried. He couldn’t help himself, and he knew she wanted to ask, but she didn’t, probably thought it was about her parents; any other day, it would have been. But not this time — this time was because he knew that when morning came, as it always does, as all thing come, eventually, he would lose the last of his family. Again. And he would be alone, again. Floating through space in a bigger on the inside blue box that was far too empty yet filled with memories of all that he had lost.

He didn’t want to let her go, and he thought she could sense that; there was a tightness behind her eyes that looked like dread, because she knew him — she knew him better than anyone in the universe, and she knew when he knew something she didn’t, and she knew when it was something bad. She always knew.

She said goodbye that morning by taking him to bed. They made love slower and more careful then they ever had before, and it felt too much like a goodbye, too much like the ending it very much was. She kissed his tears away, and comforted him as he cried.

“Please, don’t go.” He had begged in a hoarse voice, from his position on the bed. She was putting on that dreaded space- suit, and the brand new sonic screwdriver clutched in her hand.

She had cupped his cheek, kissed him on the lips, and smiled.

“I’ll be back next week, sweetie. I promise.” Then she left, innocent and oblivious to what fate awaited her.

She never came back; not that week, nor the next.

She never did — she wouldn’t, couldn’t.

And now, he was alone, again.

Because everybody knows that everybody dies, and nobody, _nobody_ , knows it like he does.

The universe made sure of that a long, long time ago.

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End file.
